Losing Pussyfoot
by Arianna Leciav
Summary: I've come to the point, as we all do, where I wonder what I'm doing and where I am. Only thing is, I really don't know. Waking up in some place that you've never seen before can't be a good, right? I’ve many questions, but the top one is how do I get out?
1. Dirty Window

I'd also like to thank my beta maraie, who's kind enough to put up with my atrocious writing mistakes (which are quite frequent until she goes through my story).

I've also made some adjustments to this story so it is all cannon.

Disclaimer: I own everything (humble, aren't I?), but not the recognizable characters, and obviously not the HP Universe.

There's a moment in everyone's life when the realization hits them like a ton of rocks that they're completely lost. They wake up one morning, look around, and ask themselves, "Who am I," and "Where am I?"

Consequently, most people take a good look at their life, and try to make sense of it and put it back together.

I guess you could say the rocks have just hit me. Not the normal rocks, oh no. These are the indestructible kind, with a bit of a bounce so they hit you over and over. Unfortunately the rocks snuck up on me from behind, equipped with a silencing charm. Most people knowingly walk into their ton of rocks, but not me. I whole-heartedly believe this isn't my fault.

Now I'm in the process of figuring out how I got here, why I'm here, and what I'm going to do about it. Thing is, I really did wake up and asked my self, "Where am I?"

I've never seen this place, I don't know how I got here, and I'm alone. Not just no-one's-in-the-room-with-me alone, but really, honestly alone. I've looked in some of the side doors here, (there are too many to do anything else, but become more lost) and I'm the only soul here. I might think I've died, but I read about death in a book by Ellen the Expired, who died once, and this isn't like anything she talked about.

First thought that ran through my head was 'Stupid Marauders, spiked my pumpkin juice and left me somewhere again.' Last time they did it, they left me in some room across from a portrait of ballerina trolls (no idea what that's about), but no one believes me because it's not there anymore. It's one of those traveling rooms like the trophy room.

Back to the problem, at hand: where is here? This place is actually more than just a bit creepy. First of all, it's got quite a bit of light. Real scary, I know, but it is when it's just there. Having no windows what so ever, none that I've seen anyway, and no candles, torches, or light bulbs to speak of, the light is just kind of here. Not in floating orbs or anything; it follows me around. It's dark about eight meters in front of me, but when I walk that way, the light goes there too. It gives me the shudders really, kind of like fingernails being dragged across a blackboard. That's the worst.

Anyway, I told you before about all the doors, right? Well, they're all over the place. The walls on either side of me seem like they are more a row of doors than they are actual walls. Plus, there are an impossible amount of staircases. Looking at the rooms and where they are located, it doesn't seem possible that all of the staircases lead to places, but they do. There's always a door at the top of the stairs, and it leads to another hall where there isn't space for one. Of course that hall is full of more doors, so it really is impossible for me to not become more and more lost. For the moment, I've only checked a few of the rooms, minus the Locked Door. There's this big steel door (okay, it's the same size as the other doors) in the corner of the 'Wake-up Room,' as I have dubbed the room I first found myself in, and I can't manage to open it. I could have tried to go around and find another door in, but seeing as I feel comfortable because I can still find the Wake-up Room, I'm staying here for awhile.

Funny thing is, I woke up standing. I wasn't laying on the couch or the floor; I was standing up. Perhaps even weirder than that is how clean everything is. There isn't a speck of dust to be found anywhere on the couch, the tapestries, or the ficus; that turns out to be a good thing, as I have encountered some difficulties with my asthma in the past (that was an unlucky discovery made by my first time on a broom; I'm pretty sure they've fixed the dent in the hour hand on the clock by now).

I swear this place gets creepier by the second, particularly because of the music. Every now and then I catch wind of the tiniest strain of music; although I only hear it for a couple of seconds, it still sends shivers up my spine. I can recognize most of the bits that I hear, but there are some I can't remember the name of. It's almost like the game on the radio where they play a couple notes of a song and you have to guess what the name is. Really annoying, it is, because then I try to remember what the title is, and it drives me insane. Maybe I'm a test rat for new ways to make a human go crazy. Of course, it's a mystery to all why they chose me; I've already gone way over the deep end.

Just to prove I'm crazy, you have no idea who I even am. Everyone calls me Lily, but my real name is Lillian. Call me that and you may end up with a beak instead of a nose, permanently. My full name is Lillian Evans. You didn't think I'd tell you my middle name, did you? Only my very best friends know what it is, and they're sworn to secrecy (also threatened with a beak).

Perhaps one of the scariest things about being here is the fact that I don't have my wand. Whoever kidnapped me took my wand too; in layman's terms, a witch without her wand is almost begging, 'Come get me!'

It's ironic really, being so dependent on a piece of wood. Before I was eleven, the only thing I needed to feel safe was Dad. He was always there, and Dad never let me fall. There was this one time that I was rappelling off my house, and Dad was holding my rope at the top. He had some job convincing me to even try, but when he promised not to drop me I had no problem. Mum had a hissy fit when she found out.

Now that I know I'm a witch, oh yeah, I'm a witch. Anyway, I feel naked without my humble wood stick, and all normal methods of self-defense have left my mind. I was a Girl Scout (proud to say I've upheld the law my whole life) before I knew about the wizarding world, and so I got most of my badges. One of them was Personal Safety, and I had the opportunity of learning this kind of Taekwondo move that flips your assailant over their back, then pins them in a kissing-their-knee position–the back of their knee. Unfortunately, that useful tidbit of information has been a victim of the bog they call my mind. I'm sure it's nicely filed away somewhere, but that doesn't mean that I know where that somewhere is.

I actually kind of wish tha –

Okay, panic time. I told you about the Locked Door, right? Well, it's now open.


	2. The Death of Lily Evans

Thank you to my wonderful beta, maraie. These chapters wouldn't be as good without her.

Pulling a black-checkered trunk on a trolley behind her, the redhead ran through the train station dodging men in suit jackets and mothers kissing their children goodbye. Dark brown eyes followed her as she swerved to miss a leashed yellow lab by a phone booth, her trolley almost dumping. Hopping on one foot to try to maintain her balance, she kept hold of a ticket in her free hand, unknowingly crumpling the edges. She put her left foot back on the ground, changing her direction slightly, heading her in a more direct line towards the barrier. Now running as fast as one can with a trunk in tow, the girl veered to the right around a woman stopped to riffle through her purse; the barrier was there to meet her. She moved onto her toes trying to slow her motion forward, but her trolley slammed into her, causing her to smack into the wall.

Right then, a large group of Asians with blue base ball caps and cameras passed between the girl and the guy watching her, and trying to look around them, the boy couldn't see the trunk or the girl in the red shirt. Tapping his friend next to him, he asked, "Hey Chris, did you see that girl run by here?"

"You mean the girl with the trolley? Yeah, I saw her and thirty other girls just like her. You're going to have to be more specific, Greg."

"I meant the one who ran into that barrier over there and disappeared," Greg added, motioning towards the wall between platforms nine and ten.

"Um," Chris considered, "no. I don't tend to see disappearing girls. Come on, our train's boarding," he added, walking away in the direction of platform eight.

Catching up with Chris, Greg said, "I really did see her disappear. Really."

On the other side of the gate into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Lily Evans paused to catch her breath. She glanced at her wristwatch and muttered, "I can't believe I'm this late."

Lily grabbed her trolley handle again, and having walked to the front of the scarlet train, dragged her trunk up the stairs and in front of the first compartment marked 'Reserved for Heads and Perfects.' Smoothing the front of her skirt with the back of her hand, Lily sighed. After tucking her hair behind her ears, checking over her trunk, and standing as straight and tall as she could, Lily took a deep breath, smiled warmly, and slid open the door.

She was startled, at the least, to find the compartment empty. Frowning slightly, she looked at her watch, looked down the corridor, and moved herself and her trunk into the room. She settled her trunk into the corner, sat in the precise middle of the red cushion, and took out a small book from her pocket. Unfolding the bent corner, and trying to even out the creases, Lily tapped her foot impatiently.

The door slid open, and Lily looked up, smiling expectantly, but her smile disappeared and instead she simply let her mouth hang open a little. At the door was James Potter, probably the most rule-breaking student at Hogwarts, his friends aside. Lily would have thought he'd gotten lost, but she could see the silver badge in his hand, as though deciding whether to wear it or not.

The black haired boy looked down at her, looked around the compartment while shuffling his feet, and finally said, "Hello, Evans. I'm James Potter, as I'm sure you remember," offering his hand.

Lily merely looked at the hand and shot up from her chair when she remembered what she was supposed to do with it. "Yes, right. Sorry, um, I'll be right back. I, ah, need to use the little girls' room," she replied, shaking James' hand and walking out the door at the same time.

Lily walked to the bathroom, but merely stood by the door. She couldn't believe James Potter was the Headboy; it didn't make sense for someone like that to be a role model. For years he had hexed people in the halls, and the pranks he played on certain students caused Lily to want to hex him herself. Then there had been the matter of him asking her out at the end of fifth year, but Lily had shot that idea down before he'd taken his next breath.

Of course, Lily considered as she walked back, he seems to have stopped the random hexes and the pranks are at least towards everyone in general now. Everyone does like him for those, and if you want students to pay attention and feel school pride, you put someone they like in an authoritative position.

Glancing through the frosted glass of the door, Lily could see James had settled himself in pretty comfortably; he was sprawled on the bench opposite hers with his feet near the outside window, reading the last pages of her book.

She slid the door open and quickly shutting it, sat down. "So, have you read The Slow Tilt of Mind before?"

James tossed her book back to her, and answered, "No. Do I look like someone who has?"

"Well, no. I just thought you had; you were reading the last pages and all, so I figured you did," Lily paused. "Why were you reading the last pages?"

James shrugged, "To see if I wanted to read it." James leaned back his head and closed his eyes.

Lily really wondered how the new Head Boy would manage his duties. Even if he did do well in classes, he really didn't seem to be the type who would be able to take any responsibility. The workload for the Heads was more than it was for the Perfects, and Lily really didn't think she could handle both hers and his. The thought, This might just kill me, had already crossed her mind.

"Well," Lily started, "we first need to come up with passwords for the four houses. We really should have that done before the Perfects get here at 10:45. Any ideas?"

"Why in the world would Dumbledore let the Heads choose the passwords? It seems like it's a bit of a safety hazard, if you ask me," James thought aloud.

"It won't be a hazard, unless you tell other people what they are, or use them yourself. I'm sure you wouldn't do that," Lily said, even though she was positive that was exactly what he had in mind.

Eyes still shut, James continued, "So got some interesting words we can use, Evans?"

"I guess," Lily replied looking at James warily.

When the Perfects started to find their way to the Heads' compartment nearly fifteen minutes later, neither James nor Lily had decided on any of the passwords, but instead focused on instructing the other students.

"For your first assignments, you're going to patrol the train halls and the compartments. I'm sure you can manage; you've all seen the Perfects do it in the years before, and some of you were those same Perfects," Lily said, looking pointedly at Remus Lupin, who at the moment had a small piece of chocolate halfway in his mouth. "Anything to add, Potter?"

"Er," James stumbled from his reclined position, "Not really, Evans. Thank you."

Lily tried to hide the smirk of satisfaction from the others by starting a violent coughing fit, but she was pretty sure James had seen it; somehow his glare gave her that impression.

"Why are you calling each other by last name? Aren't you two in the same house and year?" one of the fifth year Perfects asked.

"Well, yes. Thank you for pointing that out. James and I decided, before you all got here, to show you how important it is to be friends with each other, and work together this year. We'll all call each other by first names, and help each other in any way we can," Lily said, looking to James for reassurance, as most of the Perfects seemed to think she made it up.

"Right. Lily's plan is just what we need," James added.

"Okay, that's it for now. Our next meeting will be Tuesday at seven, so we'll see you there. Benjy and Marlene, you two will have the patrols of the corridors from eight to eleven until then."

As the Perfects walked out, James only stared at Lily, following her with his eyes until she sat down.

"What?"

"You lied. I'd have never fingered Ms. Lily Evans to be one who lies."

"And I'd never finger Mr. James Potter to be Head Boy. What difference does it make? They believed me, I think, and now we'll all be friendlier to each other. It did some good," Lily argued. She noted that he had a very good sense of how to make people feel guilty, possibly the way he got out of some detentions.

James simply shrugged. "Fine. We have to decide on passwords still. How about Dragon Dung, Gringylow Guts, Snake Spit, and Nundu Breath?"

Lily looked disgusted. "How about no? The passwords have to be unique, and not stomach wrenching."

Over fifty password ideas later, Lily gave up. "We'll never agree on anything!"

With a slightest look of dread on his face, James ventured, "I agree?" He hadn't thought it possible for a human being, let alone a girl, to growl like that, and he wisely decided to not mention it to Lily.

"Fine! We'll tell Dumbledore to choose the names when we get to Hogwarts! That's all we have to do, so you can go now." Lily sat down and opened her book, folding the spine back so fast she could hear the small crack that came from it.

James was about to shut the door, but stopped and turned to Lily. "Aren't you going to go sit with your friends?"

Lily gave a light sigh and sat the book down. "My best friend moved to France in June and goes to Beauxbatons Academy now, and frankly, the girls in my year are really petty."

"You can come with me, if you like. We're throwing a party in the last compartment on the train, and I personally think it'd be better than sitting here alone."

"The 'Traditional End of Summer Party,' I see."

Shifting weight to his left foot, James replied, "No, actually. We're celebrating National Luggage Day."

"We have a National Luggage day?" Lily wondered.

"No, it's National Luggage Day in Moldova," James said, then shut the door and disappeared down the corridor.

Stunned, Lily sat in her spot, fighting with herself. She could finish reading her book, or go down to the party. Being in the same place with the Marauders was hazardous to your health, Lily knew, but being alone couldn't be much better.

James would be down there, and if he still liked her, he may try to ask her out again. Other people would be there too though, so Lily could always dodge him if things seemed to be heading in that direction.

She stood up, opened the door, and walked down to the last compartment. Lily could tell this would be the death of her, but figured that, for once in her life, she'd rather die.


End file.
